


The Truth of Things

by rkdawg



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt is a dunce, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkdawg/pseuds/rkdawg
Summary: Geralt wasn’t sure why he suggested that Jaskier come back to Kaer Morhen with him. But when it hit the third day straight of the bard moping while strumming a depressing tune on his lute, Geralt had grumbled the invitation without thinking.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, past Geralt/Yennefer - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt wasn’t sure why he suggested that Jaskier come back to Kaer Morhen with him. They had been parting ways at winter for years, before eventually finding themselves together once the frost began to thaw. But Jaskier had been sighing more and more as the air grew colder, lamenting that their travels this year had seemed shorter than ever before. When it hit the third day straight of the bard moping while strumming a depressing tune on his lute, Geralt had grumbled the invitation without thinking. Before it could hit him that this mean he would likely be stuck with Jaskier glued to his side for three whole months, since the keep lacked any of the bard’s usual forms of entertainment, Jaskier had beamed up at him and accepted.

* * *

Geralt tried not to scowl, but Jaskier was making it hard not to. They had been at the keep for almost two weeks, and the bard had spent more time with Lambert, Eskel, and even Vesemir than he had with him. Lambert made some smart-assed remark, prompting a bright laugh from Jaskier, and Geralt glared in their direction. He knew Lambert, probably more than he wanted to sometimes, and he wasn’t _that_ funny. Geralt’s jaw tightened when the other witcher leaned in closer to the smiling bard. A ray of sunlight illuminated Jaskier, colouring his dark hair with reddish highlights and bringing out the bright blue of his eyes. He looked shockingly out of place, with his unmarred skin and clothes as colourful as his personality.

Breathing in deeply, feeling vaguely unsettled, Geralt escaped to the training yard. He hoped to find Eskel there – he could use a good fight, and he trusted his quieter almost-brother to not ask him any invasive questions.

* * *

Rubbing at his sternum, sore from a particularly hard blast of Aard, Geralt trudged upstairs to his room. He craved a hot bath, his thoughts going back to how Jaskier would often wash his hair when they shared a tavern room. The bard treated his locks with a reverence that the witcher didn’t wholly understand, but he couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have strong but gentle fingers carding through his hair and massaging his scalp.

Stepping into his room, he found Jaskier sprawled out on his bed. The bard appeared to have dozed off while waiting for him, and Geralt found himself inching closer silently. Jaskier looked much younger when asleep, his expression content rather than animated or flirtatious. His shirt was partially undone, a hint of chest hair drawing the witcher’s gaze. His fingers twitched, wanting to touch; Geralt loudly cleared his throat, shocking the bard from his slumber.

“Geralt!”

Jasker’s eyes widened as Geralt loomed over him, and he quickly scrambled out of the bed. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, before chuckling to himself.

“I must have been more tired than I thought. I thought you’d be done training quicker than not, but I should have expected no less – do you witchers ever just take it easy? Surely it’s not forbidden? Or is there some weird witcher law against not going to the extremes at all times? That would explain a lot, actually.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh and started to get undressed, his shirt sticking unpleasantly to his skin. He gestured to the bath, which while no longer steaming hot, was still warm when he dipped his hand into the water. “Thanks. Did you get the water?”

“You’re most welcome.” Jaskier grinned before realising what else Geralt had said. “Wait, what do you mean did I get the water? I can perform menial tasks just fine, thank you very much.”

“Since when?” Geralt smirked at Jaskier’s glare, but it fell when the bard explained that Lambert had helped.

“Lambert _helped?_ Are you sure it was Lambert and not a doppler?”

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier explained, “Yes, _Lambert_ helped. All I had to do was ask nicely. I don’t know what you have against him – you’ve been a little snippy towards him lately.”

Gritting his teeth, Geralt sat down heavily in the bathtub, water sloshing over the edge. He raised the heat with a quick Agni and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I didn’t know you and Lambert were that close.”

Incredulous, Jaskier flung up his arms in disbelief. “Honestly, Geralt, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

He was met with nothing but silence, despite expecting the witcher to at the very least scoff at the suggestion. Stepping closer, Jaskier asked in an uncharacteristically meek voice, “ _Are_ you jealous?”

Geralt chose to sink deeper into the water rather than answer, until his head was completely submerged. Shaking his head, Jaskier knelt beside the tub and waited until Geralt needed to resurface for air. Finally, the witcher shot up and gasped in deep breaths, having stayed underwater for so long that Jaskier had started to panic.

“Very mature, Geralt.”

Geralt refused to look at Jaskier, his muscles tightening as if readying for a fight. He felt vulnerable and defenceless, and he had to bring himself back to the situation at hand. He flinched when Jaskier gingerly laid a hand upon his, which had been gripping the side of the tub so hard that his nails were beginning to dig into the wood.

Jaskier smiled softly at him, an understanding in his eyes that Geralt was afraid to acknowledge. “We can talk about it later. I’d better go help Vesemir with the usual dinner preparation.” With a squeeze to his hand, Jaskier left the room, closing the door quietly as if any loud sounds would shock Geralt further.

The bath was cold by the time Geralt felt he was ready to face the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt stayed far away from the kitchens, wandering the keep until ending up in the old armoury. Most of the weapons and armour were merely decorative at this point, far more of them than there were living witchers, but he threw himself into cleaning and sharpening whatever he could see was lacking a shine or had a dulled edge. His thoughts kept straying to Jaskier, that ridiculously romantic and endlessly prattling fool of a bard who refused to keep his distance no matter what Geralt said and did. He decided not to think about earlier in the bath, silently agreeing with Yennefer’s past assessment that emotional discussions with him were “like pulling teeth from a warg.”

He found some peace for an hour or so, until his ears picked up the footsteps of someone trying hard to be noticed. Sighing, he turned to face the doorway, unsurprised when Lambert stepped in from the hall. Looking over at the all the gleaming steel and iron, Lambert raised a brow and asked, “We getting some unwanted visitors, or did spring-cleaning hit you early?” Grunting in reply, Geralt thought about stabbing the younger witcher, just a little. Nothing lethal, but enough to make him go away.

He continued polishing the, quite frankly, ostentatiously designed dagger, and ignored Lambert as much as you could ignore someone who was staring at you from a few arm’s lengths away. He could hear Lambert shuffle in place a few times, clearly wanting to stay something but oddly hesitant. Annoyed, Geralt barked out, “What? Spit it out?”

Lambert scowled, crossing his arms across his chest. “Look, you’ve been a bit pissy lately, and this time, I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything to deserve it. So what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?”

Geralt looked up from his seat and scowled right back, but a trickling of guilt had him putting the dagger aside to focus wholly on the other witcher. He had been a bit of a prick these past few days. “Lambert… You haven’t done shit. I’m just…”

“Jealous?”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, which just made Lambert laugh under his breath, a gleam in his eye. Geralt instinctively knew that he wouldn’t like whatever shit Lambert said next.

“I might not be a pretty boy like you, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. From what I know of him, Jaskier’s gotta be feeling a little hard-up after so long without a good fuck. What do you think of my chances?"

Growling, Geralt near strangled the hilt of the dagger—which looked humorously small in his big hand—and stomped over towards the other witcher, but Lambert was out of the room and down the hall before he could reach the doorway. His cackles echoed down the hallway when Geralt threw the tiny blade and it flew wide by at least two feet.

* * *

Geralt wasn’t stupid, despite what Yennefer probably thought half the time they interacted – he now knew that Lambert was doing this to push his buttons, but he couldn’t help the burning jealousy as he watched him flirt with Jaskier over dinner. Now that he was aware that he considered the bard _his_ , Geralt really didn’t appreciate the barely veiled innuendos that the other witcher kept throwing at Jaskier. To his relief, the bard actually seemed more flustered and confused by this, rather than batting his eyelids or whatever it was he did to get people so eager to bed him.

Still, his fists and jaw would clench whenever Lambert leaned in close, even more so whenever Jaskier would throw his head back to laugh at a joke that really wasn’t that funny, his slender throat drawing Geralt’s gaze like something shiny to a raven. He was studiously ignoring the way Eskel kept looking at him with sympathy written all over his face. Vesemir had already retired to his quarters, no doubt in no mood to deal with his witchers acting like hormonal teenagers.

When the night grew darker, they headed into one of the side rooms that Jaskier had turned into a bit of a parlour. Jaskier liked to end the evening with performance, but tonight he chose a slower, more reflective tune, and Geralt found himself relaxing back in his seat. The crackling fire cast the bard with a warm glow, and Geralt found himself unable to look away. He knew that Jaskier looked no different than he usually did, but now the witcher was finding himself viewing the bard with a new light. He wondered if this was similar to how the inn patrons would view Jaskier whenever he put on a show.

When the bard finished up with an exaggerated bow, Geralt realised that both Eskel and Lambert had left, leaving the two of them alone. Clearing his throat, Geralt stood and awkwardly said, “That was, uh, good.” Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he had trained more in conversation.

Thankfully, Jaskier simply smiled at him and packed his lute away in its case, swinging the strap over his shoulder and heading towards the stairs. When Geralt didn’t follow, he looked over his shoulder and asked, “Coming to bed? We still have a little something to discuss, and I’d rather not do it in the parlour where anyone could interrupt.”

Mouth going dry, Geralt wasn’t sure what to make of that but he followed obediently behind the bard, noting that they were heading towards Jaskier’s room rather than his. He worked on controlling his nerves with some breathing exercises, feeling like he was about to take down a nest of nekkers rather than engaging in meaningful dialogue. Because he was certain that whatever they discussed in Jaskier's room was going to change the dynamic between the bard and Geralt forever, for good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this 3 chapters because it flows better that way. Chapter 3 will have the smutty goodness.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaskier closed the door behind them and carefully placed his lute beside the chest of drawers. Sitting down on his bed, he patted the spot next to him and looked up expectantly at the witcher. He rolled his eyes when Geralt looked at the offered spot like it was a bear-trap just waiting to snap. “ _Geralt._ Please sit next to me instead of being all looming and foreboding. Honestly, you’d think we’d never shared a bed before let alone sat next to each other.”

This set Geralt’s mind down a path he had only ever let himself tread when his mood hit a very specific trifecta: exhausted, lonely, and running low on denial. Pushing the thoughts aside, he gingerly sat on the very edge of the bed, hyperaware of how close their thighs were to touching. From the corner of his eye, Geralt saw how Jaskier rolled his plush bottom lip between his teeth, something he only did when particularly nervous. The bard’s hands fidgeted in his lap, elegant fingers plucking at the fabric of his pants; Geralt felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious.

“So… About earlier. Um, during the, ah – _the bath incident._ And, to be honest, these past two weeks as well, because it seems like me being here is souring your relationship with Lambert.”

Geralt scowled, because he didn’t want to talk about it, but he also _did_ , and – wow, this was as frustrating as Yennefer had indicated. Yet he forced himself to speak, because Jaskier was looking increasingly worried as the silence dragged on. The bard probably thought he was truly coming between him and Lambert, when it was Lambert just being a dick.

“Lambert and I are fine. I just wish…” Jaskier waited for the witcher to finish, surprisingly patient as Geralt struggled to find the words to describe emotions he was only really coming to understand. He grumbled something too low for the bard to hear.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

Gritting his teeth, Geralt drew a deep breath and forced the words out. “I don’t like it when he flirts with you.” When Jaskier doubled over in laughter, Geralt shot up from the bed and headed for the door. Embarrassment and anger flooded him, and he regretted saying anything to begin with. This was why he didn’t like emotional bullshit – it just made him a look like a damned fool.

“Geralt, wait!” A hand reached out to grab his shirt, and he half-heartedly pulled away, but he stilled when Jaskier’s grip tightened. He stiffened when the bard shuffled close enough for Geralt to feel his heated breath on the back of his neck.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, not really.” Jaskier’s voice carried a plea, for Geralt to believe him. “It’s just that Lambert is absolutely not flirting with me. Not in any serious manner, I mean. I’m fairly certain he knows how I feel about you – even Yennefer knows, and that’s more than a little mortifying considering she used to be your lover.”

Geralt didn’t understand. “How you feel about me?”

Groaning in exasperation, Jaskier moved to face the witcher, blocking the door in the process. He looked utterly fed-up with Geralt, who was beginning to think that maybe he was a little stupid when it came to these things.

“ _Geralt._ I have loved you since the moment I’ve met you. I have cherished our moments together, even when we’re covered in monster guts and haven’t bathed in days.” He crinkled his nose at the picture he'd painted. “Well, I didn’t quite cherish _those_ moments together, but you get the gist. Surely I do not have to spell it out for you any more succinctly, or should I just strip myself bare and beg that you ravish me?”

Jaskier saw the very moment that full comprehension hit the witcher. The pupils of his cat-like eyes dilated, the amber of his irises now appearing more hazel than amber. Geralt felt distinctly unbalanced, but the scales were tipping further and further towards a situation he was more comfortable and familiar with.

“You _love_ me?” He rasped, stepping forward to corral the bard against the door. Jaskier visibly gulped, but he nodded without hesitation. Jaskier asked, “How do you feel about me?” and his expression was so hopeful that Geralt knew he owed it to him to be honest, even if it hurt a little.

“I don’t know if I love you, but I know that I want you. I... _care_ about you. I know that I hate it when you don’t return to our room after playing for coin, and lately you’re who I think about when I’m with another.”

Jaskier looked like he was once again trying not to laugh. Geralt frowned. “What?”

“That sounds a lot like love, Geralt.”

A sudden bout of giddiness bubbled up from within. It did sound a lot like love.

“Oh,” he said, stupidly. Then he was grinning, unable to keep a straight face. Yennefer had always said he would grin like a fool when in love, back when they thought they would be together no matter what.

Jaskier beamed back at him, and Geralt couldn’t help himself any longer – wrapping his arms around the bard, he pulled him flush against him and brought their mouths together. Jaskier moaned into the kiss with unabashed delight, throwing his arms around the witcher’s neck and sliding his hands into thick, pale hair. Tugging just shy of too rough, Jaskier shivered at the low groan he pulled from the bigger man. Jaskier had, from the many times he washed the witcher’s beautiful hair, long suspected that Geralt liked his locks being tugged. But he had never dared to try until now.

Running his hands down the bard’s back to grasp two firm handfuls of his ass, Geralt lifted until Jaskier’s long legs were securely locked around his waist. He started walking towards the bed, stumbling when Jaskier latched on to his throat, biting and sucking with great fervour. He managed to tumble them onto the sheets and not the floor, but not without knocking their heads together and making them both cry out in unexpected pain.

“Shit, sorry.”

Jaskier rubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand, his chuckle making a sheepish Geralt break out into a relieved laugh of his own. “Don’t you go thinking you can get out of this so easily. I won’t let a concussion get in the way of finally getting to make love to you.”

They eased back onto the bed more a little more restraint but no less enthusiasm than before. Jaskier clawed at the witcher’s broad shoulders when Geralt thrust his hips into his, the bard’s whimper muffled by the Geralt’s tongue in his mouth. When Geralt bit down into his lip, Jaskier moaned desperately and began to pull roughly at the witcher’s clothes.

“Get. These. Off. Now.” He panted loudly, whining when he struggled to get Geralt’s breeches past his hips. “Why are these so damned tight? I appreciate it when we are travelling, but right now it is infuriating.”

Chuckling, Geralt stood and quickly undressed, gesturing for Jaskier to do the same. “If _you_ don’t get those clothes off, I’m going to rip them off you.” While the idea was more than a little titillating, Jaskier had to make his few outfits last for the winter, so he hurriedly disrobed and flung his garments across the room. Laying back against the bed, he unashamedly spread his legs to welcome Geralt between them. He moaned softly when the witcher’s big hands slid up his legs and down his thighs, spreading him wider before his gaze.

Geralt kissed the inside of his thigh before sucking a bruise onto the pale skin, making the bard gasp. “Beautiful,” he murmured, before pressing another kiss and another until his hot breath was making Jaskier’s hard cock twitch from how close Geralt’s mouth was. Those golden eyes looked up at him from beneath pale lashes, waiting for Jaskier’s full attention before Geralt dipped down to run a thick, wet stripe up his cock. He suckled at the head, running his tongue against the sensitive slit, before taking as much of the bard as he could in one go and sucking hard.

“Oh, fuck!”

Jaskier’s hips bucked up without meaning to, but Geralt held him down with strong hands around his thighs. The witcher controlled the pace, his throat spasming around Jaskier’s cock, and the bard sobbed, writhing on the bed. He shoved one hand, then two, into Geralt’s hair and pulled so hard that he’d be worried if not for the muffled moans the witcher was making. Geralt bobbed his head faster, and when he brought a hand around to encircle Jaskier’s tightening sack, the bard tensed and cried out so loudly that there was no way he wasn’t going to be teased tomorrow morning.

Geralt hummed around his softening cock, swallowing with a cocky grin. Jaskier grinned sleepily back, his body buzzing with pleasant aftershocks. Pulling the witcher up towards him, he licked into his mouth, tasting himself on Geralt’s tongue. He could feel Geralt’s arousal against his hip, and he shivered in anticipation. Sliding a hand between them, he grasped the witcher’s thick, heavy cock, smearing pre-cum along the head and rubbing a thumb along the slit. With a broken groan, Geralt began to thrust into his hand, but Jaskier wanted more. He had always been a little selfish.

“I want your cock in me.”

With a bitten off curse, Geralt kissed him almost violently, his own hand wrapping around the base of his length. “You can’t just say those kind of things.” Jaskier grinned impishly and said in a sing-song voice, “You’ll have to get used to it.”

Later, when Geralt had three fingers shoved in him, fingers spreading and curling relentlessly to bring him to the edge before easing off, Jaskier regretted saying that. When he had finally begged that the witcher let him come, tears in his eyes, Geralt had simply smirked and said, “This is how I do things, little lark. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

But even Geralt had his limits, and when he finally sunk his cock into Jaskier, they both moaned in relief and pleasure. He thrust in and out slowly at first, before Jaskier’s pleas for “more” and “faster” had the witcher rutting harder and deeper until the bard was wailing incoherently. Grunting, Geralt shifted so that he could wrap Jaskier’s legs around his neck. A few more rough thrusts and Jaskier was seizing up against him, nails digging into the witcher’s biceps and his cry even more deafening than before. Geralt groaned as the bard’s walls spasmed around his cock, and he came with a shout, filling the bard up before slipping out with a shudder.

Geralt managed to fall to the side and not crush the bard, which Jaskier was thankful for. Cuddling up against his side, an exhausted Jaskier planted a soft kiss on the witcher’s chest. Geralt held him closer with an arm around the back, but eventually forced himself out of bed to grab a wet washcloth for the both of them – they’d regret it if they didn’t clean up before passing out. Jaskier whined at being disturbed, already half-asleep, but he was more than happy to resume cuddling once Geralt was finished. Dropping a kiss atop the bard’s dishevelled hair, Geralt fell asleep with a stupid grin on his face.

* * *

Lambert smirked at him over breakfast, eyeing the hickeys on Geralt and Jaskier’s necks. “Did you two have a good night?” Geralt threw an apple at his younger almost-brother, but he couldn’t help but smirk back. He _did_ have a good night, after all. Eskel shook his head with a slight smile, and Vesemir barked at them to not waste food. Jaskier was oblivious, humming happily to himself while leaning against Geralt’s side.

* * *

When Yennefer saw them next, they weren’t doing anything too out of the ordinary, but she knew something was different from before. Namely that Jaskier was sitting atop Roach and Geralt was walking alongside with the reins. Appraising them with calculating, dark eyes, she raised one perfectly curved eyebrow and said, “You’re fucking, aren’t you?”

Choking on his own spit, Geralt thumped a hand against his chest. Jaskier, on the other hand, bristled like a territorial cat. “We are in _love_ , thank you very much.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Nonetheless, it’s about time. I was tiring of your endless pining, bard. You too, Geralt.”

Jaskier and the sorceress bickered amongst one another, and it felt so _normal._ Geralt patted Roach as they walked along, feeling a lightness in his chest that had been growing more and more as time went on. He grinned at Jaskier when the bard looked over at him, enjoying the way he blushed and smiled back, even if it meant Yennefer feigned disgust to annoy Jaskier. Geralt didn’t know what the future entailed, but with his loved ones by his side, it would surely be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand that's a wrap! I haven't written smut in forever so I hope it's okay. Hope you have enjoyed this little story of mine! No Ciri in this timeline because it just didn't work, and I only wanted to write a short story with very little plot, haha.

**Author's Note:**

> Vague on canonical details for the books, games and show, because it just gets confusing. I haven't written in forever, but this has been fun.


End file.
